


Fathers & Sons

by mattzerella_sticks



Series: Season 13 Inspired [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 13x01 Lost & Found, Coda, Dean Talks About Feelings, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 17:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12347298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Coda to 13x01 "Lost & Found"Jack wants to know more about his father, and who better to ask than the one person his father was closest to. If only Jack was the last person Dean Winchester wanted to see.





	Fathers & Sons

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Hope you like it!

            “Can you tell me about my father?”

            Dean doesn’t look up. His eyes stay locked on the half-empty beer bottle in his hands. He fiddles with the label at its tear, playing with the headless cowboy’s body. His head lies in a pile next to the others, their cold, blue eyes staring up into nothing.

            “Dean?” Jack tries again, walking closer, “Can you _please_ -“

            “Where’s Sam?”

            Dean takes a gulp, slamming the bottle down with enough force to send a jolt down Jack’s spine. He pauses, but doesn’t stop. He keeps walking until he’s right next to Dean’s hunched figure.

            “He fell asleep,” Jack says, “Today was a little… much. I’m surprised he stayed up for as long as he did. He was showing me how to use a... cellular phone?”

            “ _Cell_ phone,” Dean grumbles.

            “Right,” Jack continues, smiling, “Do you know that you can send these little faces? Sam called them ‘Emojis’. I really liked them.”

            Dean’s breath hitches and his finger slips, tearing through the rest of label and ripping the little cowboy right down his middle.

            “Did I… should I _not_ like them?” Jack asks, blinking in confusion. His smile slowly falls from his face,

            Dean still isn’t looking at Jack and he takes a deep breath. “’S free country,” he says, shrugging, “you can like who-whatever you like. Not like I can stop you…”

            Jack nods, looking away. Dean finally takes a peak, his eyes darting to the side to see Jack scratching at the back of his head. He looks almost… _human_. Dean snorts.

            “Hmm?” Jack asks, turning back to face Dean.

            “I didn’t say anything,” Dean says. He starts to tap his fingers on the table a-rhythmically, Jack still beside him. He stares, entranced by Dean’s anxious tic, his own fingers dancing away against his leg.

            “Look,” Dean says, breaking Jack’s trance, “could you not just… _stand_ there?”

            “I’m sorry,” Jack says, blushing. He pulls the chair across from Dean out and sits rigidly, his hands flat against his thighs, his back straight, and his feet almost glued to each other. “Is this better?”

            “I meant-really, it’s… y’know what,” Dean sighs, “it doesn’t matter.”

            Jack nods. Dean tries to take another sip of his drink, but freezes. He catches a glimpse of Jack’s intense stare. The way his head tilts in almost the right way. How he squints _his_ blue eyes – ‘ _no not his… Jack’s eyes’_ ; Dean shakes his head and moves the bottle away, letting it hover.

            “Can you stop looking at me like that?” Dean turns to face Jack, “You’re… creeping me out.”

            “Sorry-“

            “And stop saying ‘sorry’ for everything,” Dean barks, “s’annoying.”

            “Sor-“

            One harsh glare from Dean forces the words to die on Jack’s lips.

            “Right,” Jack continues, pressing his knuckles into his thighs anxiously, “I just… I wanted to know more about my _father_ -“

            “What’s there to know,” Dean snorts, “He was the Devil… wanted to start the apocalypse… he took everything from Sam and I-“

            “No, no,” Jack frowns, shaking his head, “I wasn’t talking about Lucifer… he’s – he’s not my father.”

            “I know it’s been like – a day?” Dean starts, “but I’m _pretty_ sure you’re dad’s the Devil. I wasn’t there but…”

            “He’s not my father,” Jack says, “Castiel is.”

            Dean’s hand goes slack. The bottle falls, and it shatters across the floor. Jack jumps up, but Dean doesn’t notice. His mind is whirling, jaw slack and the edges of his eyes blurring more and more.

            ‘ _Castiel is_.’

            He comes to with Jack at his side, shaking him, looking at him with worry. His hand is on his shoulder – ‘ _not his shoulder, Dean’s.’_ ; his hand is where his mark was – ‘ _it’s gone now, just like him.’_

            Dean bats him away.

            “What… what did you just say?”

            “Are you alright?”

            “No, no,” Dean growls, his green eyes glowing with a suspicion, “you said Castiel is your dad. That – that can’t be true. It’s not true. He didn’t sleep with Kelly. He wouldn’t-“

            “He never slept with my mom,” Jack says, squinting at Dean just like _he_ would – ‘ _STOP THAT’_ – “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

            “I think it does.”

            “Castiel,” Jack starts, “when I was still gestating in my mother’s womb, he made a promise to be my dad. Promised to _protect_ me. I… I connected, with him – through our graces. I saw what he saw and I knew – I just… _knew_ … that he meant it. He didn’t create me, but he still loved me.”

            “That… sounds like Cas,” Dean relents, turning away. He cradles his hands in his laps, and his head is bowed.

            “Cas,” Jack tests the name out in his mouth, smiling, “I… like it.”

            “Why,” Dean asks, “Why come to me? I’m sure Sam-“

            “You were the closest to… Cas,” Jack says, smiling wistfully, “I tried talking to Sam and he said a lot but… there was something I knew he was holding back. He never talked about you and Cas, telling me it was your story to tell. I want to hear that story.”

            Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

            “Although,” Jack continues, backing away, “it must be… awfully too early to talk about this. I’m so… I should go.” He turns and starts to walk away.

            He doesn’t make it halfway out the room before Dean is clearing his throat. Jack stops, but he doesn’t turn around.

            “Cas is… he _was_ something else,” Dean starts, “He was too human to be angel… yet too heavenly to be human. He was… _perfect_. He was perfect to me. Even when he made mistakes, betrayed me – betrayed us… he was just following what he thought was right. Trying to protect us.” Jack hears a slight sniffle. “He threw himself into danger headfirst because he thought everyone deserved to be saved except himself that… that self-righteous, self-sacrificing _bastard_. Thought the world… thought I’d think better of him if he went out in a blaze of glory when he was already my world and… and…”

            Jack glances behind him. Dean’s hand eclipses his face, but Jack can see the frantic rise and fall of his back, his body suffering silently.

            “Dean,” Jack says, “I’m glad Cas had someone like you in his life. Someone who truly… _loved_ him.” A beat. “I hope we can talk more about Cas in the future. Talking to you… it’s like talking to my father.”

            He leaves not long after that.

            Dean doesn’t notice. He’s lost in his world, trying to get the image of Castiel’s cold corpse out of his mind. His fingers can still feel the ash of his wings coating them from where he traced their singed path. His eyes can still see Cas’s eyes, how strange to see the raging ocean that usually met his gaze so still and silent.

            “Cas,” he whispers, “I know… I know you think everyone can be redeemed. But some of us… are just past saving.” He chokes, just the tiniest bit. “I wasn’t worth saving, but you never gave up and look where it got you? I just… I know you wanted to protect Jack. Wanted _us_ to try and raise him. But I… I don’t think I can do it.”

            “And it’s not just because he’s Lucifer’s kid,” Dean admits, “how can I raise someone, when every time I look at them… I see only you?”

            Dean pounds his fist against the table and takes a deep gulp of air.

            He sits vigil the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Crush your soul? Let me know!


End file.
